


King and Lionheart

by Nochi



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: AU, Breakups, F/M, Fix-It, Romance, Temper Tantrums
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nochi/pseuds/Nochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of stories of an ill-fated romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stay in Touch (prompt: stay)

**Author's Note:**

> I regularly make myself little prompt lists and roll dice to see which prompt and which fandom I'm gonna write in. They're pretty self-indulgent, and I have a fair-sized collection of them at this point. It's just a matter of finding the notebooks they're in.
> 
> Specific to this drabble, I was so dissatisfied with the Alistair breakup scene in DA:O I've written roughly 4000 versions of it. ("Why didn't you just write versions where they stay together?" I don't like court intrigue and Nadene exists to be in pain.)

“Nadene.”

“Should I bring my Dalish things with me, or will they think I escaped an alienage?”

“ _Nadene_.”

“Teldryn’s staying with me, they can just deal with that fact.” 

“Nadene! You can’t stay.” She turned from her bag, eyes confused and a little hurt, and Alistair hated himself for making her look like that again. 

“‘Can’t’ as in ‘it’s a noble thing’ or ‘it’s an us thing’?” she asked quietly, and he leaned heavily against the doorframe. He hadn’t been crowned yet, but they’d made him give up his Warden status. So no armor, but no finery, either. She wasn’t sure that made it any easier. 

“Yes,” he said tiredly. “When I marry, it will be…. _indiscreet_ for you to still be in Denerim.” He made a disgusted face, a familiar one Nadene had taken to calling his “politics face”. It softened as he spoke again. “But it will also be very difficult for me not to lend credence to any rumors.” Nadene’s heart did something sudden and painful. 

“I had hoped…” She swallowed hard. “You’re still my friend, Alistair.”

“And I thank the Maker for that daily,” he said earnestly. “I’m not sending you out into the wild,” he promised her. “I used whatever Warden influence I had left and whatever royal influence they’ve decided I have to convince them to make you Warden-Commander. That’s...what I actually came to tell you.” He handed her an envelope with the Warden seal on it. “You’ll report directly to me. So. You know. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you,” she said, examining the order. She honestly didn’t think, after everything, she could handle being completely cut off from Alistair. 

“Eh, my motives weren’t _entirely_ pure.” He shrugged. “...I’ll miss you.” 

“...I’ll miss you too.”


	2. Worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of the first ones like this I wrote, and is kind of obviously so (I think) from how shaky I am with both Nadene and Alistair's voices. Set somewhere in the middle of the Deep Roads.

“Ow!” 

“Pansy.”

“It _hurts_.” Alistair squirmed, pouting mightily, and Nadene couldn’t help but be reminded of the children she’d patched up in the camp.

“If you’d quit _squirming_...” 

“I’m only squirming because it _hurts_!” She applied at salve and he twitched away, actually slapping at her hand. “Like that! That - oh.” He caught sight of her expression, equal parts incredulity and annoyance, and pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “Ah. Sorry. It just. Stung.” 

“The _Dalish_ men never squirmed,” she said, fighting a smile as his pout turned slightly bitter. 

“Yes, well, if you’re treating _nettle stings_...” 

“And animal bites, and halla kicks…” Her tone turned teasing, mostly so he’d know she _was_ teasing. “ _Zevran’s_ Dalish, maybe I should go to _him_ for my dose of manliness.”

“Hey, if anyone’s going to be dosing you with manliness around here -” She cut him off with a kiss, a press of lips with little more intent than _shut up and sit still_. He smiled as she sat back, that little glow of happiness he got whenever she acted on her affection for him. “Anyway, the darkspawn are _way_ meaner down here,” he commented. “Wonder if it’s because they’re closer to home?” 

“Animals are always bolder in their own territory,” Nadene agreed, murmuring as she tried to wipe a wound clean gently. “Might be the same for twisted demon freaks.” 

He hissed between his teeth, clenching and unclenching his fist in an attempt to sit still. “Remind me why we couldn’t just have used one of the field injury kits?” 

“Because those cost money, and you - “ She paused to tear a strip of bandage with her teeth. “- are on your fifth impersonation of a flipped turtle today.” 

He barked out a laugh. “Wouldn’t that be great? I could just pull in my arms and legs and stick out swords instead. I -” He stopped, sure she had said something, but her hands were resting on his arm and her hair had fallen in front of her face, and she was being very still. Like a startled halla, full of life but very...afraid.

“Nadene?” He shifted to face her, cupping her face with one hand. “Nadene, what’s wrong?”

“I get so _scared_ ,” she repeated, not looking at him. “You fall, and I never know if you’re getting back up, and I remember what you said about Wardens and the Deep Roads, and I -”

He kissed her this time, pulling her close and running his thumb across her cheek. Breaking the kiss but not pulling away, he brought her hand up to his chest, resting it over his heart and letting her feel the steady beat that pulsed there. 

“Still beating,” he said quietly, as she spread her fingers out across his skin. “And hopefully for a while yet. Just because we’re in the Deep Roads doesn’t mean I’m destined to die here. Alright?” He pressed his lips to her forehead before wrapping his arms around her (wincing only slightly in the process). “No more of this. I’m serious. If you’re worried about me you’re not worrying about yourself.”

“I always worry about you,” she muttered into his shoulder, and he smiled into her hair.

“Yes, well. As good as it is to be cared about…” He pulled back to rest his forehead against hers. “It doesn’t do me any good to see you fall, either.” 

“I fake it,” she reminded him with a smile.

“Oh, I know. And you play possum in battle, too.” 

She looked shocked for a half-second before she whapped his uninjured arm with the bandage roll. “No, please, mercy, if you break them both I’ll be wading into battle waving plasters at the darkspawn. ‘The Plaster Warden’, they’ll call me; what kind of role model is that for the children.”

“It does kind of sound like a children’s story, doesn’t it. Maybe I’ll get Lelianna to help me write it.” 

“...you’d do it, wouldn’t you.” 

“Well, if you don’t hold still it’ll have a basis in fact.” She went back to work on his arm, only sniffling occasionally.

“You know who falls down a lot? _Zevran._ ”


	3. Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in response to a. the dearth of options for calling Alistair a poophead during the breakup scene and b. something he says during the Landsmeet. I don't remember what it was. Something about her being Dalish, or their relationship, or both - it's been like three years since I played through the Landsmeet. But it made me mad, so it made her mad. (Also I have since developed a theory that Alistair's breakup speech was fed to him by Eamon or something and it just fell apart at the end because literal golden retriever puppy Alistair Theirin.)

Nadene had her knees drawn up to her chest when he approached, and that was a warning sign in itself. 

“Hey.” A noncommittal grunt was the only reply he got, and he resisted the urge to rub his temples. “Mind if I sit with you?” He took her shrug as a yes, and settled beside her on the step. The silence grew between them, and he let it. She’d speak when she was ready.

“I thought Ostagar was the biggest building I’d ever seen,” she murmured, finally. 

_Not what I expected, but I’ll take it._ “It does feel a little confining, after being under the stars for so long.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it.” And there it was, that flint edge to her voice. 

“Nadene - “ 

“Did it have to be _you_?” she said explosively, finally looking at him. 

“What do you - “

“ _Everyone_ there was thinking it. Every single person. But _you_ said it. _You_ , Alistair Theirin -” she wielded his name like a dagger, with roughly the same intent. “ _You_ I expected to at least _pretend_ to be on my side -” 

“Nadene…”

“And you just - in front of everyone - “

“Nadene!” He grabbed her shoulders, startling her into silence. “One, take a breath. A deep breath. Two…” He steeled himself; this was already off to a bad start, and he didn’t see it getting any better. “That’s...kind of what I came here to talk about.”

She seemed to calm a little at that, or at least was cautious instead of actively angry. He took a deep breath himself and released her shoulders. 

“We need to end this.” Her shoulders squared as her temper flared again, and he spoke quickly to cut her off. “I’m going to be _king_ , it’s not - I’m going to need an _heir_ -”

“I _am_ capable of that, you know.” Her voice was flat but he barely noticed, he had been momentarily overwhelmed by the mental image of a tawny-skinned, blonde little boy, chasing frogs around a courtyard, then a girl, doing the same but in a torn, stained dress. He shook his head to clear it and took her hands. 

“Never mind if one Grey Warden should be having children, let alone _two_ \- the risk - and besides that...the child will need a mother. Our days are both numbered.”

“We have plenty of time, Alistair, we’re not -”

“Nadene, please, listen -”

“You’re the _king_ ,” she said matter-of-factly. “No one makes the king do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

That one took a moment to process. 

“So you’d have me just...marry some poor girl and come see you whenever? ...no. No, that would be...very unfair.”

That broke whatever facade of calm she’d been holding onto. “And _this_ is your _fair_ option, is it? Ship me off back where I came from with a fresh set of scars and your stupid rose to remember you?” 

“...you’d keep the rose?” 

“And we’re supposed to just live out our remaining days pretending we didn’t fall perfectly, stupidly in love until we just meet by chance in the Deep Roads -”

“ _Stop_.” His voice was sterner than he’d ever used with her, even after Redcliffe and Lady Isolde - that had been more misplaced anger than anything. This was directed, and there was a hurt sort of fury in his eyes that faded the longer he held her gaze. When he spoke again, his voice was low and utterly broken-sounding. “It would be very unfair,” he repeated. “To _you_. For me to literally parade around with another woman, give her a child, dress her and gold and jewels and all you would get is secret nights and rushed encounters...no. _No._ I will not do that to you.” 

“...would I have your heart?” She sounded small, lost and scared, tears finally welling in her eyes, and he reached out for her. 

“Oh, Nadene,” he murmured as she curled against his chest. “Oh, my rose.” He buried his face in her hair, his arms curled around her protectively. “You’ve always had that. You always will.” 

“But you still have to marry some painted, perfumed -”

“Yes,” he said gently. “And...the longer this...the longer I...it will be very hard to stop,” he got out, finally. “We...we have a job to do. We should focus on it.”

“...then you should probably let me go.” Her voice was defeated, but it was Alistair’s fingers that were locked around her waist. 

“...yes. I probably should, shouldn’t I.”


	4. Eezo Battery in Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pulled almost everything about this crossover out of my ass. Except for Thedas being a planet in Mass Effect, it could totally happen, I mean there's an Amaranthine.

The Wardens figured out early that what they called “darkspawn” everyone else called “Reapers”, and the ability to sense them was deeply coveted by the Alliance. Which was how Nadene Mahariel found herself yanked from her planet just before the Reapers fell on it like a black storm, and assigned to the Normandy with the only other Warden in existence. He was too loud, too bright, like a star that cracked jokes rather than feel things. They ate together, and attended meetings together, and when no one was looking he looked utterly _lost_. She identified deeply with that look.

He was a flirt, too, she came to realize, and soon tossing banter back and forth with him came easier than breathing. They started working out together, with her pretending not to notice his shoulders when he ran, and him blushing every time she caught him failing to not notice her legs as she stretched.

Commander Shepard had been judicious with sending her Wardens planetside, preferring to use them as intelligence more than soldiers. But they had zero information about this mudball, other than an apparently breathable atmosphere, and they would be able to sense a Reaper presence if they landed near one of the poles.

Alistair showed up at her bunk the night before, looking utterly _panicked_ and holding a rose, an honest-to-god red rose he had apparently found the last time they’d hit the Citadel.

“Everything’s so broken there,” he muttered, looking at the floor. “Everyone’s scared or mad or greedy, and I didn’t know they even _grew_ roses in the Wards, but I saw it and…” he trailed off, blushing, one hand coming up to play with the ends of her hair. “It made me think of you. How we’ve both gone through so much ugliness, but if nine of it had happened, I wouldn’t have found you.”

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to her height, kissing him soundly and walking him backwards into her quarters.

“I don’t - I’m not - I haven’t - “

“Shut up, I just didn’t want to get busted for PDA.” She paused. “Haven’t?”

He flushed. “Haven’t...licked...an eezo battery.”

“I see.”

“Friend of mine did in training, though, for all I know his hair’s still standing on end. ...what about you, have you ever -”

She just kissed him again, and they slept in each other’s arms.

(If he saw the Commander slipping out of the main battery as he was tiptoeing back to his own bunk at 0500, neither one of them was going to bring it up over breakfast.)

* * *

 

Saying there was a Reaper presence would have been an understatement subject to criminal charges. Wave after wave came after them, dropships keeping their shuttle from reaching them, and Marauders pounded at their defenses continually.

“I don’t suppose your connection is two-way?” Shepard’s voice was loud over the radio as she ducked behind the barricade, shield shimmering back into place.

“No ma’am,” Nadene called back. “They only respond to the arc - to Harbinger. We just eavesdrop”

“Great.” She swung her sniper rifle back over the barricade, and across the field a Marauder dropped.

A groaning noise filled her ears, and she whipped around to see Husks tearing at their makeshift wall. Swearing, she raised her own rifle, spotting too late the one that glowed red instead of blue.

The last thing she remembered was Alistair’s voice, her name, the whistle of an overworked shuttle engine…

* * *

 

“It was a damn fool thing to do. I understand why, and I applaud your courage, but do me a favor and don’t make a habit of it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll check in on you two later.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Nadene waited until she heard the medbay door hiss shut before opening her eyes.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you get chewed out by the Commander.” Was what she meant to say. What came out was more like “grargh.”

“Nadene! Oh, thank the Maker.” It was a distinctly Fereldan invective, and hearing it in Alistair’s voice made a sense of comfort wash over her. Dr. Chakwas was on her then, running a dozen different tests and finally smiling at the results.

“Looks like a nap does fix everything,” she said happily. “You owe this young man a great deal.”

Not trusting her voice, Nadene merely sent a questioning look at Alistair.  
  
“Oh, I didn’t - I mean, your armor’s medigel distribution had been, well, _exploded_ somewhat, I just -

“He yanked his armor off and put you in it,” Chakwas finished for him. “Which is why his back is covered in stitches and you’re right as rain.” Nadene just stared at Alistair. All he seemed to be able to do was blush.

* * *

 

It was another couple of days before Alistair was cleared, and Nadene helped him to his quarters.

“I’m _fine_ ," he insisted as he swiped his keycard. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore, really. I even slept on my back last night and everything.”

“Good.” Nadene pushed him up against the wall as the door slid shut, kissing him hungrily, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth and feeling rather than hearing his response. His hands settled on her hips, pulling her closer, and when she hitched her hips up against his it seemed to pretty much set the tone for the evening.

“Hm.” She ran her fingers through his hair, watching the way it fell back down over his forehead.

“What?”

“Not standing on end.”

He chuckled, low and rough, and it made her shiver despite the exquisite exhaustion she was wrapped in. “I don’t think that was a battery I licked.”

“Don’t know, it seemed to turn me on.” He was groaning before she even finished the sentence, hands over his face.

“Noooo, oh no. Nooo. I walked right into that, didn’t I. Tricksy Dalish girls and their puns and their...mm. Hands.” She was running her fingers up his spine, skipping over the pale white lines that criss-crossed his skin.

“I love you,” she said quietly, and he shifted onto his other side to look at her. “ _What_ ,” she said defensively.

“I love you too,” was all he said.

“I kind of figured, with the taking shrapnel to the back for me. Which, by the way, don’t do that again.”

“I’ve been informed it would be a bad idea,” he said dryly, playing with the single thin braid she wore. A frown crossed his face and he paused. “You didn’t do this because you thought you… _owed_ me or something stupid like that, right?”

She smiled, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. “I’ve wanted you since we started working out together.”

He blushed, but he was smiling. “Well. How shallow of you.”

“And what were you trying to accomplish with that rose, huh?”

“My intentions were _entirely_ pure, madam.”

“Mm. Too bad.” She leaned in, kissing along his jawline, and his breath came out in a low sigh as he wondered what he’d gotten himself into.

He was pretty sure it was a good thing.


	5. Mirror, Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's new! Also short. Very short.

Most of her nightmares were about darkspawn. She got used to those quickly enough, once they’d been explained to her. 

But then Tamlen crept up on the camp, half-corrupted and rotted away, just those eyes still recognizable in that horrid mask of a face, and the nightmares changed. It was Tamlen, and the mirror, only she didn’t pass out this time, she saw him get dragged in, heard the horrible laughter, heard Tamlen screaming…

She woke sitting up in her tent, Alistair’s arms around her, Alistair’s voice in her ear, telling her over and over that it was okay, she was safe, that was past and she was okay, he was with her. She reached up with a trembling hand to clutch at his arm, and he pulled back just enough to see her profile.

“Nadene,” he whispered. “You’re alright.”

“Tamlen.” Her voice was dry and choked, and he tried to reach for a canteen without actually letting go of her. “He...they took him and…”

“Shh. Drink this.” She did as he said, only slopping a little down her front as her hands shook. “It was a nightmare, love.”

“It was them,” she muttered. “It was when they took him. I saw what they saw.” 

Alistair didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and she didn’t blame him. She just leaned into him, letting his voice and his warmth chase away the last of the terrors.

She tried very hard not to think of Tamlen after that. That thing she had seen, it wasn’t her friend. Her friend had died in the cave. The clan had sung for his spirit, taken him away to rest. No matter how her heart ached, she did not say his name again, nor entertain thoughts of his survival, of coming across him in the woods, as she had before. A little piece of her hardened and died in the process, and she tried not to mourn it. It was that part of her that might have kept her from firing at darkspawn, thinking they were him, and that was fatal. 

They’d had no body to bury for Tamlen’s funeral. So she buried him in her mind and her heart, and called it good enough.


End file.
